Alone Together (Gallavich)

twenty-nine

ian

The whole situation got better in the next few days. After a trip to urgent care when Fiona saw the gash in my head later that night, I had no choice but to stay home with a concussion. Normally, a shaken brain would not constitute bed rest, but my lovely friend Bipolar Disorder decided to force me into, what the doctor liked to call, fragile condition." I wasn't complaining though. Being at home meant I didn't have to worry about finding a job right away, which I was honestly dreading. It's not that I don't like working, it's just been a shaky time for me. Plus, my last job didn't go very well for me so there was definitely no rush to get back out there.

You'd think it'd suck being home all the time but actually I enjoyed it. It forced me to find hobbies, which I surprisingly did pretty quickly. Apparently I like writing and drawing, nothing crazy, just simple notes and doodles to keep my mind occupied on something other than the chaos of my life. Lip made fun of me for it, of course, saying he didn't realize I could be any gayer. Then I'd remind him that there was an endless level of gay I was capable of; that I was currently waiting for a southside criminal to get back from "taking care" of his dad so we could be together and overcome our forbidden love - a true Chicago fairytale.

Speaking of which, I had to spill everything to Fiona and Lip after the whole head-gash situation - how Mickey left and won't be back for a while, if he even comes back. Lip, being Lip, took it very lighthearted, saying that the Milkovich house was like a zoo on steroids and that Mickey would for sure murder any fucker to get what he wanted. Fiona, on the other hand, immediately kicked into her overprotective mode, saying how I wouldn't be able to leave the house without letting at least three people know where I was going and when I was getting back in case one of Terry's guys came after me. Putting it lightly, I liked Lip's response better.

It was around noon and I was sitting at my desk sketching when my phone buzzed in my pocket. When I fished it out, the screen was lit up with a text from Mandy.

Coming over.

I sent back a quick Okay before tossing my phone onto my bed, focusing back on the drawing. Mandy had stopped by the day after Mickey left to see what was up. She said Mickey got home, grabbed a bunch of beers from the fridge and locked himself in his bedroom. According to her, he hadn't left in the 24 hours since he got home but I'm sure he had done more than just left his room by now. If he was going to get back into the swing of things around there, he didn't have a choice. I explained to Mandy what was going on with as much information as I could to have it make sense, but considering I didn't know much about Mickey's "plan" myself, I don't really think Mandy got it either. It had been three days since she came over and this was the first time I was hearing from her since then. Part of me hoped she was just coming over to hang out, maybe watch a movie or play video games or some shit like that, but the other part of me hoped she had an update of some sort. I wanted Mickey off of my mind as much as possible while he was gone. The suspense and uncertainty would kill me otherwise. But it just wasn't fair to think I'd be able to keep him out of my thoughts for more than an hour or two at a time. It was getting to me that I had no idea where he was or what he was doing, better yet, how he was doing.

About five minutes later, I heard the back door slam shut so I made my way down to the kitchen. Mandy was sitting at the dining table with a concerned look on her face, immediately stressing me out.

"Hey," I said, walking over to the fridge and grabbing two beers before sitting in the chair next to her. Without saying a word, she took the beer from in front of her, twisted the cap off and took a long sip from the bottle.

"Jesus Mandy, you okay?"

Sighing and finally looking up at me, she finally spoke up. "Dad's on his way home."

I could feel my heartbeat quicken slightly, but I stayed calm, trying not to freak Mandy or myself out anymore than we needed to be.

"How do you know?"

"Corrections officer called Mick to give us a heads up. Apparently he wasn't in the best mood when they let him out earlier. Told us to call the cops right away if he acts up." She laughed quietly and took another swig of her beer before continuing. "That's fuckin Terry for ya."

"Yeah," I scoffed, getting more nervous with every word she said. "Guess so."

Mandy must have picked up on my anxiousness as her face quickly became serious again. "You don't have to worry, Ian," she reassured as I opened my beer and took a small sip. "We've been dealing with that shit head for years now. We can handle it."

"I know," I sighed. "I guess it's just a little nerve racking when it's something like this."

"Look, Mickey's gay and my dad's either going to have to live with that or he's gonna have to leave cause I don't think it's changing anytime soon. Especially not with you waiting here for him."

My nerves immediately eased a little. Having Mandy remind me that this whole thing wasn't one sided, that Mickey knew I was still here waiting, was something that I needed to hear.

"How long you think it's gonna be?" My voice came out softer and more upset than I meant it to but I couldn't help it.

"Another week or so tops probably."

I looked down as my fingers played with the bottle cap on the table.

"Ian," Mandy pressed, placing her hand on mine to calm it down. "Trust the man," she continued when I finally looked up. "He knows what he's doing."

"I know. I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head at myself and smiling a little. "What're you doing here anyways if your dad's coming home?" I asked, trying to move on from my own problems.

Mandy chuckled a little before answering. "You think I wanna be there when the fucker gets back? He's already not in a good mood, wait til he finds out Iggy drank all the beer last night and didn't get more. Gonna be a shit show over there," she laughed out, clearly amused by her family's disorder.

"Tell me about it," I laughed back, taking a sip of my beer. "When Frank comes around I wanna fucking move to Alaska. He's always on about some existential shit like how our country is disappointing him, but never as much as his kids do. Fuckin nut job."

"Well, here's to the fucking lame excuses of fathers we were blessed with," she joked, raising her beer in a toast. I clinked my bottle against hers, laughing and taking a sip when we pulled away.

"Mm, speaking of nut jobs, I was told to ask if you were taking your meds. Well, not exactly asked. More like hinted at. Mickey tries to be subtle and act like he doesn't give a shit but goddamn that boy is whipped."

My heart warmed instantly and a small smirk formed on my face at the mention of Mickey's concern. "You can tell him yes, I am taking my meds. All 7,000 of them."

Mandy rolled her eyes at the last part. "I can't believe they have you on medicine for your concussion too, as if your brain needs another substance fucking with it."

"That's what I said but apparently the mutant genes that Monica passed on combined with the drugs she took while I was in her womb were enough to fuck me over for the rest of my life."

"God," she laughed, "yet another exemplary case of successful parenthood. Gotta fucking love it."

"You can say that again."

i really have not been vibin with writing lately and im sorry if its showing. all i wanna do is write chapters exploring the characters minds but then the plot doesn't move and i feel redundant and unaccomplished. hopefully i can write better. 7k reads you lil shits!! thanks a million :) love ya for that.